Page 5 of Overdose
“Something that burns on the way down and maybe takes a few memories with it,” I say, resting my elbows on the plywood bar like I own the damn place.
She snorts, slamming a plastic cup under the tap. “So, everything I’ve got.”
She slides me something blue and bubbling like it was carbonated with regret. No questions asked. No ID. No bullshit.
I take a sip. Wince. “Jesus. This tastes like a dare.”
“That’s the house special.”
I’m halfway through the drink when I spot him again.
Dagger.
Same leather, same boots, same fuck-me-or-fight-me energy. He walks like he owns the floor and maybe he does—judging by how every neon-drenched girl parts for him like sin wearing a smile. He zeroes in on me without a blink, and yeah, okay, maybe my pulse stutters a little.Just once.
“Still standing,” he says, all gravel and grin, arms crossed like he’s waiting for me to crumble.
I smirk around the straw. “Sorry to ruin your ego trip, but your little poison pill? Barely a tickle. I’ve had more fun snorting Fun Dip in a Taco Bell bathroom.”
That earns a laugh, low and dark and way too amused. Like he likes that I bite.
I set my drink down. “Maybe I need another to really feel it.”
He raises a brow. “You sure about that?”
“Oh, what’s wrong?” I tilt my head, saccharine sweet. “Afraid I’ll overdose on your mediocre product?”
His mouth twitches and fuck, it’s a good mouth. Full, cocky, just a little dangerous. And when he speaks, I catch the flash of metal on his tongue.
A ring.
Of course he has one. Of course it’shim.
“Think you can handle a second one?” he teases, already fishing in his pocket, like he didn’t just light my nerves on fire with that grin and a flick of silver.
I don’t blink. Just shrug. “You tell me, dealer man. Or is that little bag of skulls just for show?”
He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a baggie of those pink skull pills—same kind of poison, same candy-coated temptation. The light catches it just right, like the universe wants to make sure I see exactly what I’m about to regret.
He holds it up between two fingers. Casual. Cocky. Like he’s offering gum instead of something that might rewire my brain.
I raise an eyebrow, sipping the last of my drink like this is just another Thursday.
He pops the bag open with a flick of his thumb and pulls out a single pill. Rolls it between his fingers. Doesn’t offer it. Not yet.
“What’s the catch?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager.I probably fail.
He leans in, close enough that I can smell him—leather, smoke, and something dangerously untraceable. His voice drops like gravel laced with silk.
“This one’s on me.”
“Why?” I narrow my eyes, suspicion curling around my ribs like barbed wire.
His smirk deepens. “Because I like watching people take things they shouldn’t. And I haven’t decided yet if I want to save you… or watch you burn.”
My stomach does a goddamn somersault.
Chill the fuck out, Blair. It’s not like he just dropped the sexiest line of your entire depraved little life.
